Tin Man
by the madman with wings
Summary: When a Ghost resurrects a particularly irritable Exo, the City's going to have to brace themselves for what happens next.


In the waning days of the Golden Age, during the Collapse, Humanity built the Warminds. These machines were the epitome of everything man could create.

Vast and labyrinthine, the complex concrete compounds that were built to house the Warminds spanned for miles in subterranean anonymity. The existence of these automatons predated the fall of Earth, and though most shut down when the Darkness came, some still functioned; asleep, but not dead.

The expansive fields of Old Russia, littered with rusting relics of the past, made up the territory surrounding the Last City. With the once great wall now in shambles, the only thing thing that could repel incursion by the Fallen House of Devils were the Guardians.

The Traveler, in its dying breath, made the Ghosts to create the defenders of the Light and of the Human race. The Iron Lords, who for so long protected the survivors of the Collapse, were eventually replaced by these warriors.

The Gates of Vyraj are the only thing separating the Cosmodrome from the rest of the world, under Fallen control. A lone Ghost flits through, scanning the area for something. It moves on.

It floats through the old corpses of Russian aircraft in the Mothyards, still not finding what it was looking for. The Fallen, who scavenged frequently amongst the dilapidated ruins, looked up to see a Ghost waft by like a gentle breeze. They saw, and they followed slowly, hoping for another Guardian to kill.

The small creature did not stop until it reached a small basement level of a facility in the Forgotten Shore, a place where even Fallen did not go: The Seraphim Vault.

The Ghost scanned and found under a collapsed support beam an Exo, crushed under the weight of the steel load that had befell the poor machine. The Ghost began to re-materialize the Exo in its original condition, and a lithe body made of light formed, and a gunmetal grey frame adorned by red striped meant to resemble ancient warpaint appeared sitting on top of the rubble.

The Exo's optics flickered on, and it shook its head in confusion.

" _Guardian,_ " the Ghost spoke, getting the Exos attention, " _Eyes up Guardian._ " The Exo looked at the Ghost.

" _You've been dead a_ long _time. We need to get you out of here._ "

"Chto, chert voz'mi, proiskhodit? (What the hell is going on?)" the Exo asked. The Ghost blinked.

" _Do you speak English?_ " it asked. The Exo stared at the Ghost. There was an uncomfortable silence, then the Exo spoke.

"Da. (yes.)" the Ghost sighed.

" _At least you understand what I'm saying. Look we need to get you out of here, the Fallen have no doubt detected us._ " it explained.

"Day mne odin moment, malen'kaya mashina. (Give me one moment, little machine.)" the Exo made the effort of standing, grunting all the way. He stretched his limbs, limbering himself up. The Ghost floated around to his line of sight.

" _We need to get you a weapon._ " the Exo blinked, before turning to the rubble.

"Der'mo (Shit)," he turned to the Ghost, "U menya byla vintovka, ona pod oblomkami. mozhete li vy yego poluchit'? (I had a rifle, it is under the rubble. Can you retrieve it?)" The little machine flew to the rubble, scanning it.

" _Yes, I can transmat it. Give me a minute._ " it said, increasing its scans. The Exo shrugged.

"Ne toropites'. (No hurry)" he replied, glancing around and taking in his surroundings.

He was in a small concrete building, with a collapsed roof leading to the upper levels. The path out was made of rusting sheet metal. He sighed.

" _Do you have a name?_ " the Ghost asked, trying to make small talk while it worked. The Exo stared at him, thinking.

"Blyustitel. (Guardian)" The Ghost finished its work, and a rifle appeared on top of the rubble.

" _It's alright if you don't remember._ " said the Ghost. The Exo glared

"Vy nazvali menya Blyustitel'. Eto budet moye imya. (You named me Guardian. That is my name)"

The Ghost did its best impression of a shrug it could for a machine with no shoulders.

" _If you insist._ "

Blyustitel grabbed the rifle, checking it. It was loaded. The Ghost looked dubiously at it.

" _We can get you a better gun once we get to the City._ " Blyustitel sent another glare his way.

"Eto Khvostov 7G-02, eto khoroshaya vintovka. (This is a Khvostov 7G-02, it is a good rifle)" he loaded a magazine and wrapped the strap around his wrist. The Ghost let out a sigh.

" _Let's get moving, there should be a Guardian on patrol around this time. Watch out for Fallen, I don't think your rifle will do much against a Captain's shields._ " Blyustitel nodded.

"Eto khoroshaya vintovka. (This is a good rifle)" he repeated.

" _I'm not going to argue with you._ " was the only reply he got.

"Davayte dvigat'sya. (Let us move)"

It had been easy to get out to the Mothyards, as Blyustitel moved silently amongst the wreckage. Finding a Guardian, now that was the hard part. It wasn't until the sun was setting that they finally found one, a single Warlock trying to fend off an entire patrol; she had run out of ammo for her scout rifle and had resorted to using her sidearm.

The Khvostov, despite the Ghost's doubts, made short work of the patrol. The last Dreg let out a shriek as it faded into nothingness. Blyustitel offered a hand to the Warlock.

"S toboy vse v poryadke? (Are you alright?)" he asked, pulling her up. Her helmet tilted to one side in confusion.

"I'm… sorry? I don't understand you."

"Ya proshu proshcheniya. (I'm sorry)" Blyustitel's Ghost took that moment to materialize.

" _I'm sorry, my Guardian was recently resurrected for the first time. He understands English, he just doesn't want to speak it._ " Blyustitel glared at his Ghost.

"Oh, you're a newbie! Um, okay what's your name?" the Warlock asked.

"Blyustitel." she looked at the Ghost. The Ghost sighed.

" _He insists that his name is Guardian._ " the Warlock nodded.

"Cool. okay what's your class, Blyu?" the Exo glared at her.

"U menya net." he said.

" _He says he doesn't have one._ " the Ghost translated.

"That's unusual. Well, if you need to hitch a ride, you're welcome to come with me. My ship can hold an extra passenger." Blyustitel nodded, keeping in his stoic personality.

"Spasibo."

" _That means-_ " the Warlock cut it off

"Oh, I know that one, It means thanks! um, P-per no, that's wrong. Oh, pozhaluysta! (you're welcome)" the new Guardian blinked, surprised.

"Ty govorish' po-russki? (you speak Russian?)" he asked, curious.

"Only a little. It's hard to _not_ pick up bits and pieces of the language when I see it every time I go through here." the Warlock supplied.

"Ty nikogda ne govoril mne svoye imya." the Ghost blinked.

" _He's asking for your name._ " the tiny machine said.

"Oh, um it's Ana. pleasure to meet you Blyustitel." she extended her hand to the gunmetal Exo. he took it and promptly shook.

"Udovol'stviye vse moye… Tovarisch (the pleasure is all mine… Comrade)"


End file.
